


i will soon forget the colour of your eyes and you will forget mine

by angeliclogan



Series: the true lives of the fabulous killjoys, abridged [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Disability, M/M, Psychological Torture, Sensory Deprivation, Suicide, danger days, inspired by a wonderful fic, killjoys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 15:46:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6811720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeliclogan/pseuds/angeliclogan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>they took him away by stealing his reality.<br/>now frank is loving a lost soul, bruised from his memories, and buckling under the weight of barely breathing.</p><p>// tw: torture, suicide</p><p>// unbeta'd</p>
            </blockquote>





	i will soon forget the colour of your eyes and you will forget mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snailthesaints](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailthesaints/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I Can Feel Your Breath I Can Feel My Death](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5386718) by [snailthesaints (orphan_account)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/snailthesaints). 



> before you read this, please read the fic it was inspired by, because it's one of the best i've ever read, and lemme tell you, i have high standards.  
> also, this will make much more sense to you.

When I was alone, I wasn't angry, nor was I defeated. At very least, I was bored. I felt no hurry to escape, or even die there. Everyone was doing a fine job without me, and my source of information was dearest Pony in the cell next to me.

And then he came.

Him, with his hair-dye stains and his red jacket and his too-right skinny jeans. With his courage and his anger and his lust for revenge. With everything I'd lost in the years I'd spent here, nonchalantly wasting away.

I felt something, then, emotions that had somewhat escaped me since I'd woken up in a BL/Ind prison cell. There was no trial for me, I was not important enough. My torture was to sit and be, and do nothing more than that, because that was what I couldn't stand. It had become a ceaseless daily routine to wake up without a purpose and silently bemoan it until I fell asleep. Then he came, and my torture was suddenly having to watch another, beautiful, human being crumble away as BL/Ind stole everything from him. I had been remembering my days out in The Zones for two years now, but never so vividly as when I watched him walk into my cell with head held high. He was Party Poison, the red-haired hero, the man who became a leader, Gerard, the black-clad Bat City rebel turned colourful freedom fighter. And I had worked with him, fought with him, been taken away from him, all before. Now I knew that it was all going to happen again, and I couldn't quite believe it. Believe me, I tried so hard not to fall in love.

I failed.

His spoke like someone had told him that a microphone would always be in front of his mouth, broadcasting to an entire nation. He held himself as if someone was always standing behind him, ready to kill. And they took that away from him. They took away the way he formed his words and the way he cocked his head ever so slightly when listening to what I would say to him and the way his eyes would glint happily whenever we pulled away from a kiss.

It was not that I could feel his pain. I can't even begin to imagine it. No. It's that I had to watch him shake in terror and curl up into a tiny ball and refuse anything I could do to help when he thought about them. It's that, eventually, when they led him from the cell the last time, he could do nothing except feel their hands gripping his arms, and not hear or see how I shouted to him that I loved him.

When he was back, he wouldn't move. He might as well have been dead, being locked inside his own head with no form of escape. A new cell, this time without me. He couldn't even feel his chest moving as he breathed. And that's what hurt the most. Knowing that he was alive, but better off dead. Knowing that he couldn't feel my kisses. Knowing that, as I was dragged from the cell, screaming, that he would never know I wasn't there.

I have developed a dependence upon a broken human being. I sit in my room, here in Bat City, locked in after hours, thinking of him as I do each evening. Remembering everything, and wishing I could be with him, but also wishing that he had never been put with me in my cell way back when. I can't deal with this anymore, I don't want to. For all the Killjoys know, I'm still rotting in a cell. They won't miss me anymore than they may do now, because they won't know any different.

So, if you're reading this, I hope you've realised.

This is my note.

I fell in love with freedom fighter Gerard Arthur Way, while both of our freedom was stripped from us in a BL/Ind cell. Somebody notice. Somebody actually bloody notice. Join the Killjoys. There is punishment and danger and death involved, but the next generations should not be made to suffer at the hands of these monsters. Please.

That is my last request. Notice.

PS: If you find Gerard, alive, kill him. He doesn't deserve to go insane for any longer.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: etherealweekes

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [half a soul divided / empty sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6817735) by [snailthesaints](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snailthesaints/pseuds/snailthesaints)




End file.
